Pretty Angel COCO

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[Holmby Hills, Los Angeles, California. 2008.]

Michael sat in his large backyard under a big beach umbrella. He was completely calm despite the sun and the summer heat. He simply sat watching his children play together, secretly hoping none of them would fall or get hurt. He hummed, tapping his foot to the music in his head; the atmosphere was peaceful.

Chris had found some time to come over for the barbecue he had planned, a small gathering mainly for his children. He wanted them to experience a quiet, albeit small, barbecue. And of course, he also wanted to spend time with two of his friends; Chris, who, after eating and making Michael laugh until he cried, had left for work. And also, someone Jackson had really wanted to see for weeks, his favorite person in the world...

It was strange; Michael doesn't even remember very well how they met. He only remembers that it was in the early 80s and also remember as someone told him the guy had been an actor since childhood, something he confirmed years later when him finally decided to show Mike some of the movies or soap operas he'd acted in.

Having the man in the music studio 24/7 became a daily occurrence, but seriously, even back then Michael thought the man had nothing better to do or that he lived on the couch in the music studio. At first, they didn't even communicate with words; Michael would get frustrated because he couldn't find the perfect note while singing, he'd look at him on the couch, and the guy would sing, hitting the note he needed. Michael would just smile and repeat the exact note.

Over time, and as a consequence of their work on the album Thriller, they spent more time together. When Michael got tired, he would go and throw himself on top of the young man, pouting wearily. Upon arriving at the studio, he would always find himself looking for him in that armchair. When the man was asleep, he would take advantage of the opportunity to feel a little daring and hug him for hours.

Little by little, they found themselves enjoying their closeness, even when they were alone together in the studio. Despite their affection, they had both made many "mistakes," which is what they both called that night alone in the studio, a night that led to many emotional problems for both of them. That night, although filled with a love different from friendship, later resulted in many fights, jealousy, tears, and reconciliations. They managed to overcome these after promising never to speak of it again.

They were young, passionate, and in some ways, both in need of love, but at the same time, they were damaged by that need.

Coming out of his thoughts, Michael, almost instinctively, searched the area, focusing on the grill. There he saw him, his favorite person, cooking on the grill for MJ and his children, wearing those beach shorts that Michael hated and couldn't understand why the other man loved them so much. He seriously thought he'd worn them today on purpose to irritate him.

A soft, mature, and playfully peaceful smile lit up his face.

—You know what the best part of this is?— Mike asked calmly.

—Hmm?— He received a short, wordless response, without even looking at him. Neither of them needed it at that moment, just the soft groan that was an affirmation for him to continue.

Michael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and watched the smoke rise from the grill.

—After everything that happened...— He paused for a moment to emphasize the past, looking for a negative reaction before continuing. Seeing nothing resembling a refusal, he went on. —We can sit here, grilling meat and bread like nothing happened. Just the two of us…— He stood up and walked over to the grill.

Before the other could look up, Michael snatched one of the grilled loaves like a mischievous child, taking a step back, ready to flee amid boisterous laughter.

—Hahaha! Besides, Chris can't always stay to laugh with us for hours. And I need someone to tell me my jokes are bad~.— He winked under his sunglasses, because of course Michael winked with them on.

You looked at him, offended by the stolen bread.

—Damn it, Michael, that was my bread!— You gently hit him on the shoulder with the grill tongs, scolding him while smiling. You liked this side of him-playful, childlike, and warm.

—Ouch! Hey! Don't hit me with that!— he exclaimed, giggling mischievously. —You're so mean to me.— he complained slightly, to which you rolled your eyes, amused.

—Besides, if you know your jokes are bad, why do you need someone to tell you? Is that your ego talking?— You laughed.

Michael shrugged, a satisfied smile on his face. —It's not my ego, it's just that Chris usually goes along with it. And I need someone to keep me grounded, even if it's with grill tongs.— He took a bite of the stolen bread and leaned against the edge of the folding table where they were about to cook.

Michael, with that elegance that was hard to ignore, stole your gaze for a few seconds longer than necessary. Michael obviously noticed; he's no fool. He just gave a slight smile and that warm look he reserved only for his favorite people, in this case, HIS favorite person.

A little nervous, but trying not to look foolish, you changed the subject.

You glanced at Michael's children, let out a small, nasal laugh, and returned to the grill.

—If you told me you gave birth to them all by yourself, I'd believe you. They're like three copies of you.— you shared casually. Michael was a little surprised, but he burst into loud laughter, almost choking on his piece of bread. You, in response, laughed heartily, though you were a little worried.

Damn it, you really enjoyed seeing Mike laugh, doing silly things to make you smile or make you nervous, so why were you thinking about that anyway? You shook your head slightly to yourself.

Michael turned to look at the children, who were still running around with water guns, teasing each other and playing. His expression softened immediately. He was reflecting.

—But you know, you have a point, I guess...— he admitted quietly, looking back at you.

—They're too much mine. Sometimes it scares me, it's like I've tripled my craziness hahaha~.— You smiled, letting out another, more genuine laugh, finding it ironically funny since Michael always said he wanted to have lots of kids.

—Ha! Absolutely.—

You were quiet for a moment, which was comforting for Michael, but filled you with doubt about whether to say something you'd been thinking about for a while. You didn't look at Michael, but you spoke. —You know... I'm thinking about having kids. It would be fun if they played with your children...— You glanced at Michael.

Even though Michael still had his sunglasses on, you could already imagine how his eyes lit up at the smile that spread across his face. He approached the grill again, tilting his head to try and meet your gaze. Your face was slightly lowered, a little nervous at his sudden closeness.

—Are you serious? Because that would be amazing, can you imagine? My three babies, running around with other kids.— Michael spoke with such longing; that was all he wanted, to see his children playing peacefully while he enjoyed being a part of it too.

—Pfft hahaha, making a total mess~. It would be like having a whole soccer team in the yard!— He paused for a moment, gazing at the horizon of the yard, as if visualizing the scenes that could unfold.

—Your kids would be great.— he added with a firmness and confidence that left you a little shocked and, frankly, flattered. —They'd have your spark, your energy. It would be the perfect balance for mine.— You were speechless for a moment. It wasn't "they'd be good friends" or "they'd be a good balance," no. Michael used the word PERFECT. That stirred something in your chest, made it feel warmer.

—Besides.— he added again, but this time with a mischievous, flirtatious smile. You raised an eyebrow. —We already have accumulated experience~.— You looked at him, surprised by the mention of your little encounter when you were young, your cheeks burning.

—Oh my God, Michael! You can't say that! We promised never to talk about it again!.— You said nervously, but smiling and laughing.

Michael innocently covered his ears, pretending not to hear the scolding. —I didn't say anything explicit!.— he defended himself, raising his hands in denial. —You were the one who brought up the topic of having children first. I'm just supporting your idea.— He moved even closer; you could hear his breathing beside you. You refused to look at him.

—Don't act like that. Did you turn red? Haha! Did you really turn red? That's new.— You looked at him, a little annoyed.

—Hey- you're really cheeky today!— You emphasized Michael's mood swings and continued working on the grill. You decided to bring up the topic of children again.

—I don't think they'd be mine, you know? With a woman. I'd adopt them.— Michael was silent for a moment, just watching you work. His expression softened into something deep and sincere.

—Adopte?... That would be beautiful.— Again, that sincere tone that drives you crazy.

You nodded, a little happy at the idea of ​​adoption. You looked at Michael, who had just taken off his sunglasses. The sight of him, there was something about him, it took your breath away. He looked as good as ever. You missed seeing his eyes.

Michael noticed the sudden silence, the way you looked at him, with that expression you couldn't hide. He looked at you, those eyes that seemed like sunflowers gazing at the sun when they focused on you.

He smiled, enjoying the attention. His brown eyes sparkled, a mixture of mischief and a deep tenderness you honestly didn't know how to handle. Michael spoke softly.

—Don't look at me like that.— His tone became almost musical. —You're going to make me think you still like me.—